


more than party tricks

by mixtapestar



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blow Jobs, Christmas, Cunnilingus, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Rimming, Soulmates, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28355763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixtapestar/pseuds/mixtapestar
Summary: So it turns out that when you meet your soulmate, you gain the ability to do magic. Not sleight of hand, rabbit out of a hat magic, but real fantasy shit.
Relationships: Margo Hanson/Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater/Margo Hanson, Quentin Coldwater/Margo Hanson/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 28
Kudos: 121
Collections: Parts of One Whole - The Magicians Soulmate Collection, Peaches and Plums Stockings 2020





	more than party tricks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OfTheDirewolves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfTheDirewolves/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, Maii! It was delightful to write a Christmassy soulmate fic for you. Hope you enjoy! <3
> 
> Thank you Rubi for betaing!

Growing up, Margo always thought that the concept of soulmates was just that—a concept. Something people told themselves about people they were really into to justify the intensity of their feelings. You know that saying about meeting someone you get along with so well that sparks fly? Yeah, turns out that's true.

After meeting Eliot Waugh on a train into the city, Margo literally made sparks with her fingers. She blamed the cold air and the static from the carpet in her office, but it wasn't an isolated incident. And then she met Eliot again, by chance, the next day.

So it turns out that when you meet your soulmate, you gain the ability to do magic. Not sleight of hand, rabbit out of a hat magic, but real fantasy shit. It's not even a secret, as it happens, it's just something kept fairly quiet, and most people don't tend to believe in it unless it happens to them.

The weird thing is that every story she and Eliot hear about other soulmate pairs and their magic is… different. These people can do amazing things with their fingers, not just the way Margo's always been able to do, but legit out of this world manipulation. What she and Eliot can do, they describe to each other as "party tricks." Eliot mainly floats things. Margo is a bit more inventive, using her abilities for her creative endeavors and to keep her wine cold.

But they _know_ that it's limited, as if they're waiting for something. And they love each other, deep as breathing, but they both know there's more. After several months of figuring it out, they agree to date around with impunity, understanding that they are sexually compatible, but need a bit more. It works for them; maybe this is just how it is for some people.

They're happy with what they have. Their slight proclivity for magic helps give them a boost; Margo has been able to make her creative hobby her full-time gig now that she can work with glass more easily, and Eliot has become a way more efficient bartender thanks to his telekinesis.

Unfortunately, it's not a perfect system. Right now, the two of them are struggling to afford their (admittedly large) apartment, since the rent has recently gone up, and things keep _breaking_ , including their heater. Their super claims that they're next on the list for repairs, but Margo calls bullshit, and it's fucking _December_. Their minor heating charms and thick, weighted blankets aren't going to be enough for much longer.

Luckily, _because_ it's December, Margo spends most of her day outside the apartment anyway. She has a booth at the local Christmas market, where she sells ornaments, bags, and various glassware. It's usually one of her most successful months because of the season, and this year seems to be no different.

It's a random Tuesday when a frazzled looking cutie with a messenger bag stumbles into her sights. He immediately introduces himself as Quentin, which is somewhat strange behavior, but on him it's charming. He's instantly taken by the ornaments paying tribute to Broadway musicals, and actually looks interested when she talks about the process of making them.

"The ideas are really clever, too," Quentin compliments. "Like how there's subtle references to the shows in each one if you know what to look for."

"Ah, well I can't take full credit for that part. My roomie is the one who suggested those additions. I just pulled off the flawless execution." Margo blinks at herself as Quentin nods excitedly. 'Roomie'? Since when has she called Eliot anything less than her boyfriend and/or partner?

Quentin turns around to peruse the other side of her booth, then stumbles back slightly.

"Oh my god, is that a _messenger bag_ made to look like the first edition of _The World in the Walls_?!"

Margo raises her eyebrows in surprise. Her first instinct is to say it's display only; she already charmed it to only appear to magic users. But _damn_ , she could really use the money, so she puts on her best saleswoman persona. "It's actually made _from_ a first edition that was falling apart. I restored the cover and transmuted it along with the pages you see into a leather that could be woven. It took me months."

"This was made with _magic_?" he says, mesmerized, studying the details even more closely. "Oh god, this has to be worth thousands of dollars," he adds suddenly, holding his hands up and stepping away.

She pouts. "Maybe one. Thousand. I could part with it for that."

Quentin laughs nervously. "God, I wish. I've only got, like, a hundred, and that's to buy gifts for other people. It's seriously beautiful though, you did an amazing job."

She thanks him before pulling out her phone to process his purchase, then wraps the ornament before handing it over. She can't help but feel disappointed as he leaves, though she can't place why. It's not like she really expected to sell the bag.

That night, Eliot comes home with a bottle of champagne to celebrate a big tip from work. "Put this on ice for us?"

Margo pulls out the ice bucket, setting the bottle down and performing her usual spell to create a thin layer of ice. Only instead of that nice, semi-transparent layer, the bottle is suddenly invisible under a veritable glacier of ice.

"Um, El?" she calls out, but he's already standing in the doorway to the kitchen, staring at the display in surprise.

"Holy shit, what was that?" he says, already striding forward and making a flame in his palm to help melt the ice. "Quick, help me out here, I'd rather not let the bottle explode."

"I have no idea," she says, a little breathless. She snaps herself out of it and turns on the tap, running it over the worst of the ice, though it seems _really_ thick. Out of curiosity, she concentrates on the circumstances of the spell and tries to pull it back, and with no small surprise, her spell manages to slough off the ice in reasonable chunks until they're left with a perfectly chilled bottle of champagne.

"Guess I don't know my own strength," she says, popping the cork.

"I'm not complaining," Eliot says as he pulls down the champagne flutes from the cabinet. "Just warn me next time."

***

The next day at the market, during a lull before the lunch rush, she spots a familiar face. "Quentin," she calls out, apparently snapping him out of a daydream as he looks around for the source of the voice. She waves to catch his attention, and a smile blooms over his face as he heads over to her stall. "I don't suppose you decided to treat yourself after all?" she suggests, gesturing to the messenger bag.

"No," Quentin says with a laugh, "but it's still super tempting. Actually, maybe you can help me. Did you, um," he starts, then leaves a long pause, his eyes darting around as he searches for the right words. Margo waits patiently, sensing his consternation. "When you like, met your person. Did something happen like right away? Or um, was it more… gradual? The magic."

She smiles at his awkwardness. He's extremely cute; she wants to put him in her pocket. "You met your soulmate?" she gathers.

"I mean," he shrugs, holding his hands out in front of him and making a quick spark. "I definitely couldn't do that before yesterday. But it's like, I dunno, I can suddenly do all this cool stuff, but it's not really _the same_ as what I've always read about. And I saw so many people yesterday, I can't help but wonder if I just like, completely missed them, y'know? Maybe that's why it feels like I'm limited. Like I can only do party tricks."

Margo's eyebrows lift of their own accord. "Party tricks, huh?" she repeats, turning the phrase over in her head.

"It's funny 'cause I always really liked magic, not like this but like, fake magic. I mean it's not really _fake_ it's just a different kind of thing, tricking the mind rather than, y'know, defying physics, but the point is that I never actually thought I'd be able to do _this_ kind of magic, and I shouldn't really be complaining that I'm not as strong as I thought I would be if I ever met them."

She smirks, endeared, as he rambles. Eliot would definitely be intrigued by Quentin, which has her mind working. Suddenly, a gust of wind kicks up, but rather than rush back to protect her glassware, she throws a hand up, feeling the wind divert off her sudden invisible forcefield.

"Holy shit," Quentin says, echoing her thoughts. "I definitely can't do that."

"You know, I actually do think I can help you," she says evenly, not giving away the fact that her heart is racing. "Are you free tomorrow evening?"

Quentin nods eagerly.

"Meet me at the Busy Bee Café at 7."

***

"Does it have to be the _Busy Bee_ Café? You know I've slept with, like, half their baristas."

"We're not going to pick up a barista, and I can get the drinks. Busy Bee has good, private booths. I've got someone I want you to meet."

"Oh really?" Eliot says, his tone smoothing out like butter. "Why didn't you say so? Is this someone for me, or someone for both of us?"

"Both of us, maybe. But take it easy on him, okay? He seems like the type to scare easy."

"Oh, now I _am_ intrigued. Where'd you find this potential treat?"

"Work," she says, shrugging. She's avoiding Eliot's eye by focusing on preparing dinner, but she thinks she's doing it well enough that he can't tell something is up. He seems to be more excited at the prospect of getting laid than anything else. Good, she doesn't want to get his hopes up on the off-chance that she's wrong.

After she puts the dish in the oven, she goes into her work room and shuts the door. Carefully, she pulls down her latest project, the one with the complicated glasswork that she's been struggling with. Hoping like hell it doesn't backfire, she layers the two pieces of glass over each other, imagining exactly how she wants them to merge, and a phrase slips from her mouth instinctively. She gasps as the magic flows through her, out through her fingertips, merging the two pieces of glass perfectly.

"Holy shit," she breathes, setting the piece down carefully before gripping the edges of her work table roughly. There's no doubt about it, her magic has gotten more powerful. She just hopes like hell she's right about the reason.

***

"Quentin, you're here early," she says, walking into the coffee shop about five minutes early herself and finding him there, pulling at his hair in one of the armchairs by the door.

He stands up abruptly and pulls her into a hug, already babbling his thanks. He's exactly as warm and cuddly as Margo might have imagined, and while those words aren't things she would normally associate with desire, she finds herself wanting to drag him out of the café and back to their apartment.

"Eliot won't be here for a little while yet," she says, forcing herself to let him go. "He likes to be fashionably late. C'mon, let's go ahead and order. My treat."

"Oh, um. Is Eliot…?" he trails off, uncertain. "Is he here to meet me?"

"In a way," she says, deliberately cryptic. "Don't rush it, Q," she adds, the nickname falling from her lips like it belongs there.

She picks a private booth in the corner of the cafe, where she knows they'll have some privacy. She sees when Eliot arrives, but doesn't draw attention to it, instead prompting Quentin to give more details on his theories on unicorns.

It's worth it to see Quentin's reaction when Eliot joins them, introducing himself with an affected air, his voice dripping with charm. Quentin's mouth falls open, and he goes to stand before remembering he's in a booth and dropping back down.

"Quentin and I have been talking about soulmates and magic," Margo says, a little pointedly, as Eliot slides into the booth next to her.

"Yeah, I was telling Margo yesterday, it's just funny 'cause, um, I've always kinda been into magic? Not like _real_ magic, but just—sleight of hand, card tricks, y'know?"

"Ooh, _sleight of hand_ , that could be fun," Eliot says, deliberately putting on a show of licking whipped cream off his fingers. Margo would roll her eyes if she weren't completely captivated by Quentin, flushed red and mouth hanging open.

She nods at Quentin. "You wanna show Eliot what you can do?"

Quentin holds up his fingers and makes the spark again, but this time it bursts out into a flame. Margo was expecting, or at least hoping for something like this, so she quickly douses it with her glass of water.

"Oh," Eliot says, frowning. "Bambi, he's already taken."

"Did you guys see—?!" Quentin exclaims while Margo rests a placating hand on Eliot's knee.

"Don't jump to conclusions, babe," she says to Eliot before sitting up primly. "Eliot, why don't you show Quentin your own favorite party trick? Why don't you grab me the cinnamon from the stand next to the door."

Eliot huffs. "You _know_ that's too far away."

"Humor me," she says sternly, and Eliot raises an eyebrow.

He holds his hand out, clearly not expecting anything to happen, but the little shaker of cinnamon comes zipping over, straight into Eliot's open palm.

"Oh shit, telekinesis! That's so cool," Quentin says excitedly, completely oblivious to the absolute bewilderment on Eliot's face. "I think I'm getting stronger, though, I mean, you saw me do that spark thing yesterday, it definitely didn't turn into a full-fledged _flame_ like that."

"Bambi, what the _fuck_?" Eliot says, talking over Quentin, setting the cinnamon down heavily.

"I'm gonna need you both to shut up for a second," she demands, gripping the edge of the table. They both fall obediently silent as she tries to will herself to stop shaking. "Quentin. Eliot is my soulmate."

"Oh," Quentin says, visibly deflating.

Margo takes a deep breath and reaches across the table to lay a hand over Quentin's. "I may be way off base here, but I have a pretty strong suspicion you might be _our_ soulmate."

" _What_?" Eliot says flatly, disbelieving, accidentally knocking the cinnamon over as Quentin sits up straight and asks delightedly, "Is—is that a thing?"

She points out all the clues—Quentin's sudden magic, her and Eliot's magic, suddenly stronger since they met Quentin—"not to mention the insane amount of chemistry here."

Quentin blushes. "You, um, you can feel that too?"

"Fuck yeah we can," Eliot says, reaching over to take Quentin's other hand. Margo turns to him, and through a series of eyebrow wiggles and long looks, verifies that he's on board with this theory. Eliot seals the deal by reaching for her hand with his free one and squeezing.

"Oh god, are you psychic too? Is that something else to get used to?"

"Not psychic, just really close," Eliot clarifies, turning back toward Quentin.

"Stick around and you might experience it for yourself."

"Holy _shit_ ," he says, staring down at their two hands over his on the table like he can't believe they're real. "Yeah, I'm not going anywhere."

***

Margo and Eliot go home alone that night. Eliot had been all for taking Quentin home with them after they were kicked out of the cafe at closing time, and Margo certainly wasn't opposed, but the poor guy looked like a lost puppy, completely overwhelmed, and something told her it would be better to let him have the night alone to let everything sink in.

Of course, that doesn't stop them from walking him home, making people dodge them on the sidewalk as they walk hand-in-hand, three-wide with Quentin in the middle. At his front stoop, Eliot pins him against the railing and kisses him thoroughly, making Margo's body ping with interest as Quentin goes completely pliant against him. Eliot pulls her forward before he breaks the kiss, so she can be right there to take over the moment Quentin tries to get his breath back. Quentin's lips are warm and wet already from Eliot, and respond nicely to hers as she sucks lightly.

"Can, um—if you two wanna kiss each other too…?" Quentin asks. Margo's gotta give him kudos; he's already a mess of arousal and still he's asking for more. Of course, he only has a few stairs between them and a chance to get his hand on his cock. Margo and Eliot have a long enough trip home that they'll probably have to take the subway.

Obligingly, Margo turns to Eliot and wraps her arms around his shoulders as he leans down to meet her, their lips parting for each other easily and their tongues sliding together. It's always easy to put on a show with Eliot, and the breathy little noises coming from Quentin, not far away, certainly don't hurt.

"That's um—yeah, thank you."

"No need to thank us, Q," Eliot says warmly, reaching out to palm at his hip. "Just get through whatever navel-gazing you need to so you can come home with us."

Quentin punches in the code and opens the door to his apartment building. "I, um, yeah. I'll just… go do that. Um, bye?"

"Think of us fondly!" Eliot calls just before the door closes.

"You're such a tease," Margo admonishes with a smile.

Back home, they get each other off with efficiency, theorizing wildly about what Quentin will be like in bed. Eliot thinks he'll be timid, that they'll have to coax him to try new things, but Margo thinks he'll surprise them. "Either way, he's apparently made for us, so it'll probably work out."

They also clear out a section of Margo's work room to give their newfound full-blown magic a try. Margo's had more experience with it than Eliot, and she coaches him so that he doesn't overdo it.

"That's a hell of a rush," Eliot says as Margo settles into his arms after he's lifted her with magic.

Margo wraps her arms around his neck. "You should've been there when I accidentally made a forcefield around my booth. I almost came right there. Though that may have had to do with Quentin standing there, practically drooling."

"I can't believe you didn't _tell_ me," Eliot complains for the dozenth time, setting her back down.

"Yeah, whatever. And what would you have done if I'd been wrong? Or god forbid, if he was my soulmate and not yours?"

"That's not—it doesn't work like that."

"Uh huh. And would you have been sure of that if I'd told you yesterday?"

"...Yes," he says, clearly meaning 'no'. Margo rolls her eyes and allows the subject to drop.

They go to bed around midnight, but Margo can't sleep for her excitement. Eliot's not much better, though he complains that her tossing and turning is what's keeping him up.

She forces herself to lie still for about thirty seconds, but then her phone chimes. Odd, since she has it set to auto-silence at midnight each night. She reaches for it and finds a message from Quentin, practically a novel that makes her heart beat faster.

_I can't believe this but I forgot to get Eliot's number. Please send it to me? Meeting you two together was the best thing that's ever happened to me, oh my god, I'm never going to be able to fall asleep. Message me back in the morning so I know it was all real?_

"Dear god, he's so adorable," Eliot murmurs, reading over her shoulder.

"We should send him a picture. Hang on, let me change."

Eliot gives her shit for it, even as he sits up, getting rid of his shirt and checking his hair in the vanity mirror. She shakes her head fondly as she picks out a pink and black chemise, replacing her flannel pajama top with it before getting back in bed.

They take four different versions before they find a selfie they both like, sending it over with the caption, _Thinking of you!_ Margo follows it up with Eliot's info card and a kissy face emoji.

A couple of minutes later, both of their phones ding, and they find a picture of a shirtless Quentin, a hand hiding half his face as he smiles in delighted embarrassment.

"Oh, we are _keeping_ this one," Eliot says, saving the picture to his camera roll.

After a few more minutes of sexy banter, Quentin proclaims that he really does have to get some sleep, and they set their phones aside.

Margo squirms underneath the covers. She doesn't have to reach down between her legs to know she'll be warm and wet to the touch. "Baby, can you get me off again? Maybe then I'll be able to sleep."

"Of course," Eliot says, pressing a kiss to her temple and reaching into the bedside table for her favorite vibrator.

She shimmies out of her pajama pants and tosses the comforter aside, leaving her with a slight chill that takes the edge off. Eliot slides his fingers through her folds, slicking up his fingers and then using them to get the vibrator nice and wet. He keeps the vibration light as he works it into her, the top piece still inert as it rests over her clit. She bucks her hips a bit, taking the toy in properly and biting, "Get on with it already."

"So impatient," Eliot says as he pulls the toy back and slides it in again. "You know, we're probably going to have to take our time with Quentin. Work him up to your level of demand."

"We'll just have to get off together first. Take the edge off and get him all worked up from watching us."

Eliot hums his agreement and turns the vibrator on properly, massaging her from the inside and out. "I bet he's gonna fuck you so good. You're gonna climb on top of him and blow his mind. And then, once he makes you come, I'm gonna take over, putting my mouth on him and fingering him until he can't take it anymore. All while you watch, sitting on this exact vibrator until it makes you come a second time."

Warmth starts spreading through her and she leans into it, moaning, the picture of it _too_ good. She can't wait for them to take him apart, their missing puzzle piece, their Q. "That's it, baby," Eliot murmurs against her ear, pressing the top piece down firmly onto her clit as she crests over the edge, squeezing around the toy, arching into her orgasm and rocking with the vibrations.

"How long until we get to see him again?" she asks Eliot when she returns to bed a few minutes later, back in her comfy flannel pajamas.

"He said he takes his lunch break at noon. Maybe we can talk him into taking it early, though."

"Good," she says, cuddling up to Eliot's chest and closing her eyes.

***

"I hate my job," Quentin says at lunch the next day. "I don't even _do_ anything. Just stare at spreadsheets all day, and sign off on other people's spreadsheets."

"Sounds awful."

"You certainly dress like you hate it," Eliot teases, pulling at his overly large suit jacket.

"Oh god, don't remind me," Quentin says, holding his hands over his face.

"Ooh, now what's this about?" Eliot prods, grinning, as Margo pulls Quentin's hands away from his face.

"I was gonna wear something really nice today, since y'know, I knew we were meeting up. But it just, um, kinda got dirty, uh, before I left the apartment."

"Why Q, is this your way of telling us you came on your suit jacket and couldn't wear it to work?" Margo asks, and Eliot gives a mock-scandalized gasp at just the right moment.

"Jesus, _keep your voice down_ ," Quentin hisses, trying to sink down into his chair.

"Why?" Eliot asks. "You hate your job, right? Maybe you can get rid of this one, come work on our side of town. We can help you find something. Don't forget you can build a whole magical resumé now."

"Seriously?" Quentin asks, dropping his sandwich. "Fuck." Margo performs a quick cleaning spell to get the mustard off his pants, and he stares back at her with wide eyes. "How—how does all this even work? Is there like, a list I need to get on? How do I even know what I can do?"

"Trial and error," Margo says, shrugging. "Most of it just comes instinctively. I can't do everything Eliot can do."

"And I can't form a single ice cube, but that's our Margo's speciality."

"You'll figure it out. And we'll help," she says, patting his knee under the table. "And don't think we've forgotten this suit jacket story. We expect full details over dinner tonight."

"Oh, um, are we doing dinner tonight?"

"Third date, by my count," Eliot says, arching an eyebrow. "Unless you have other plans?"

"Oh! N-no, I don't, I just didn't—"

"Calm down, Q," Margo says soothingly. "You don't have to do anything you don't wanna do."

"But you can do everything you _do_."

Quentin darts his eyes between the two of them and their wicked grins before burying his head in his hands with a groan. "I can't believe I have to go back to work after this," he groans into his hands.

"Sorry," Eliot says, looking the complete opposite of apologetic.

"We can talk about something else, if it'll help."

"Yes, let's. I doubt it'll help that much but… at least I can pretend to think about something else."

After they see him back to his office building, keeping their kisses light for now, Margo and Eliot spend the afternoon shopping. With only a couple of weeks left until Christmas, the shops are fairly packed, everyone looking a little frantic as they peruse the store.

Margo doesn't feel that much pressure. She's had Eliot's gift on lock for months, and she's pretty sure she knows what she'll be giving Quentin, now that he's appeared into their lives, fully integrated even after a few short meetings. When her phone chimes with a new message in their group text, she feels a thrill of excitement, and she can hardly believe they only met a few days ago. It's just a photo of one of Quentin's boring spreadsheets, with his middle finger held up in front, but still she laughs loud enough to draw stares. Smiling, she flips them off too, before replying to tell Quentin it's his fault she just scandalized some old ladies.

"How sexy are we playing this?" she asks that night, sifting through the contents of her closet.

"I'm pretty sure we could wear a potato sack and he'd still be down, but I mean, you know I love a chance to dress up."

"I know you do, babe, and you're gonna look great. I'm just not sure I wanna wear a tube dress in our own kitchen, y'know? Maybe save that for the fifth date."

"Save it for the seventh. Make him think he's getting used to us and then blow his mind all over again."

"At this rate our seventh date will be tomorrow, but I see your point. I'll stick with the pink A-line for tonight."

"Oh yes, excellent choice. Your boobs look amazing in that one." She tilts up for a kiss, which he gives her obligingly, and then she goes off to shower and change.

The whole apartment smells amazing when she gets out, the scent of vegetables and roast filling the air. She still doesn't know exactly what Eliot adds to the mixture to give it that twang of spice, but as long as she always gets to eat it she won't complain too much.

"Tell me what you think of this," Eliot says, pushing a martini glass into her hands. She takes a tentative sip, letting the sweetness wash over her tongue, then a bigger sip, knowing what she's in for.

"Delightful. Is that peach? Ooh, and the aftertaste is nice, too."

"Good, that's what I'm going for. Wouldn't mind our kisses having a little extra flavor to them, after all."

"As if we need a punch up," she says, sharing his smirk. "Go on and get ready, I'll keep an eye on the stovetop."

A few minutes later, they get the message that Quentin is on his way, along with a series of curses and angry emojis at the work that kept him late.

_No worries, baby, we're here and waiting for you._

When Eliot emerges from their bedroom, Margo's not surprised to see him in one of his favored going-out ensembles: skinny pants and light blue button down with a brown-gold vest, the gold floral tie underneath making the brown of his eyes pop. "You know that's gonna be a pain in the ass to take off later."

Eliot shrugs. "Maybe he'll like it. It'll give him a chance to breathe."

When Quentin buzzes his arrival several minutes later, they both jump at the sudden noise, then share an amused look at their own nervousness. Eliot buzzes him up, and Margo answers the door when he makes it upstairs.

"Oh my god, you both look amazing. I should've gone home to change, I look like a frumpy corporate sellout."

"You look great, Q," Eliot says, swooping in to press a kiss to his temple before going back to the roast.

They take their time with dinner, delving into more serious topics than they've covered so far. Quentin tells them a bit about his depression and the struggles he's been through, stating that they should know what they're getting into, with him. In return, Eliot shares about his troubled past, and Margo reveals some of her own baggage from her childhood. It's definitely more than she would normally tell anyone, even a longtime friend. Definitely not someone they've only known three days. But it feels _right_ , and she feels less alone as they talk through it. She's pretty sure the feeling is mutual.

Slowly, they drift away from the serious discussion, onto Quentin's favorite subject: magic. He's been experimenting, apparently, and watching him talk excitedly about the things he can do is incredibly endearing.

"You know, there are some spells we _can_ teach you," Eliot says, his heated gaze fixed on Quentin.

"Oh? That would be amazing! Like what?" Quentin asks, darting his gaze between them.

Margo smirks, sensing where this is going. "Did you know that there's such a thing as sex magic?"

Quentin's look turns dubious. "Really?"

"Really," Eliot says, moving closer to Quentin. "There's a lot we can show you, but don't worry, we'll keep it simple tonight."

After a little bit more light discussion, they agree to move to the bedroom, where Margo urges Quentin to unzip her dress. When she turns, letting it fall to the floor, Eliot is only just managing to get his belt off. "I told you that you had too many layers," she says chidingly.

"I can help," Quentin says, going to him, and Eliot raises his eyebrows at her, as if to challenge back. She rolls her eyes and settles back on the bed, content to watch as the two of them kiss and work each other out of their clothes.

Once the two of them join her on the bed, all of them down to their underwear, Margo and Eliot make a show of explaining the protection and cleaning spells to Quentin, performing them on each other. "Really this is all you need for most things," Margo explains, "but if you're open to a little experimentation, the possibilities are endless."

Quentin swallows audibly. "I have like, a thousand questions, but mostly I just want to touch you both."

Margo and Eliot share a heated look, verifying they're on the same page. "We'll do whatever you want. We want this night to be about making _you_ feel good."

"I know this is gonna sound like a total line, but… I'm not normally like this. I just… _really_ want to get my mouth on both of you."

Margo laughs as Eliot crowds up behind Quentin, pushing his hair aside to kiss at his neck. "You should've been there when me and Eliot first met."

"We'd known each other, what? Two hours? When we went to buy you that strap?"

Margo shrugs with a sly smile. "I knew what you needed." 

"Just like we know with you," Eliot murmurs against Quentin's ear.

Margo smiles wistfully. "We always knew we were missing a piece."

Eliot shrugs. "I just figured we were broken. I thought I had accepted that, until you."

"My friends, they don't… _get_ the soulmate thing." Quentin gasps, tilting his head back to give Eliot better access to his neck. Margo is just barely resisting the urge to touch herself. "It's not just the magic, although I guess that was kinda my focus growing up. But ever since I met you, Margo, something in me has, like, calmed down, and then when we all met up in the café…"

"It was like you could breathe for the first time," Margo finishes for him.

" _Yeah_. Like I'd been doing it wrong my whole life and I just, finally figured out how."

Margo moves forward to kiss him, sliding her hand down his chest and further to palm his dick through his boxers. "Look at you," she murmurs against his lips. "You're already so hard. You want me to suck you?"

" _Fuck_ ," Quentin whines as Eliot grunts his approval.

"I could rim you while she does it, if you're into that."

"I— _yes_ , I'm _very_ into that, but—"

"He's a world champion at eating people out, trust me."

"No, I'm sure, I just. Please, let me get you both off first?"

Margo blinks, a different kind of heat spreading through her. She's reminded, suddenly, that this isn't just some random third they've brought into their bedroom for the night. Quentin is their _person_ , and he's just as invested in their pleasure as he is his own.

"You don't have to do that alone, you know," Eliot says, pressing his smile to Quentin's jaw.

"I know, but I want to. If that's okay."

Margo doesn't need to be told again. She pushes the two of them out of her way to take up residence in the center of the bed, propping herself up on a pillow.

"Looks like Margo's volunteering," Eliot says, smirking. He moves in to curl his fingers into her panties, guiding them down her legs slowly while Quentin watches. "I think you said something about using your mouth?" Eliot prompts.

"Yeah, _god_ yes," Quentin says, scrambling into position as Margo spreads her legs.

The first touch of his tongue, though shallow, feels amazing, like he's taking a taste and then savoring it. The second swipe is more sure, and soon he's diving into her, licking inside of her, over her, sucking on her clit just enough before moving away to build her up further. She moans encouragingly, bringing Quentin's hand up to cup her breast, urging him to squeeze over it as his tongue drives her wild.

Eliot, at no surprise to Margo, is only content to watch for so long. He shucks his boxer-briefs to the floor after a few minutes, then takes up position behind Quentin, rubbing his cock up against Quentin's clothed ass. Quentin moans, the vibration of it flowing through Margo, making her clench down over his tongue.

"Your tongue is amazing, Q, just like that," she says, slipping her fingers into his hair. She locks eyes with Eliot, addressing him next. "You're going to explode once he gets his mouth on your cock."

"He's that good, huh?" Eliot says, smoothing his hand over Quentin's back. Their banter seems to be doing something for Quentin, who shifts and comes at Margo with twice the intensity, making her gasp.

She leans back and lets herself give in to the pleasure, her hand going to her other breast and flicking over her nipple as Quentin's tongue continues to find all the right places. Heat is melting through her, intensified by Eliot's eyes on hers and the way Quentin moans and moves, like he's so into it. She knows that the next touch to her clit will be enough, so she massages her fingers against Quentin's scalp and says, "That's it, baby, lick my clit, make me come."

God, he takes instructions so _well_ , flattening his tongue and _really_ applying the pressure as she pushes into it, riding out her orgasm against his tongue. He starts to move again as the first intense pulse goes through her, drawing it out into a series of sparks of pleasure, until she feels completely spent.

With a content sigh, she pets through Quentin's hair, signalling him to back off. He licks his lips as he sits up, and she can't really blame Eliot for moving in to kiss him immediately. She'd do it herself if she weren't feeling so fucked out. As it is, she waits her turn, and is eventually rewarded by each of them bending over her to kiss her heatedly.

"Eliot's turn?" she finally asks, rolling out of her front-and-center spot. Quentin nods excitedly, his eyes already glued to Eliot's sizeable cock.

The beauty of the three of them is that the energy is different yet compatible across each pairing. With Eliot, it's always been an easy rapport, understanding each other intrinsically and letting their guard down for the first time in a long time. In a way, she thinks they probably had to find each other before they found Quentin.

She's still finding the shape of her energy with Quentin, but it's obviously there, a shared passion for things that most people don't give a shit about, a balance between his softness and her hardness. It's too soon to tell, but she may have found someone she's only dreamed of, that will let her give easy commands and follow them just because they came from her.

The connection between Quentin and Eliot is the most intense of all, though. She can practically see the electricity between them as Quentin settles on Eliot's lap, the two of them moving in hungrily to kiss each other, their hands roaming. It's hot, but it's also comforting, to see them fit together so easily. Despite all his posturing, what Eliot really wants is to be cherished, appreciated for who he is when all the bullshit is cleared, and she's sure they've found that with Quentin. In just three days, he's proven himself to be genuine and loving, and to never go into anything halfway. He's also _into_ Eliot in a way that none of their shared partners had ever quite managed—a fact that has always infuriated her, but makes her even more grateful to have found Quentin now.

She helps Quentin out of his underwear as the two of them paw at each other, apparently finding something in kissing each other that they've been looking for. She's never seen Eliot so open and emotional from just a few kisses, and Quentin breathes him in like he's been drowning and Eliot is his first breath of fresh air.

By the time Quentin shifts down, starting to work his tongue over Eliot's cock, Margo has relocated to the head of the bed, curled up comfily against a pillow next to Eliot. "You good?" she asks quietly, and Eliot turns to look at her, his eyes full of wonder, of disbelief.

"We found him, Bambi."

"We did," she says, the emotion in Eliot's voice making her own throat tight. She brings their lips together, pouring her own feelings into the kiss, swallowing his own in return. "Now snap out of it before Q here thinks you've never had your dick sucked."

Eliot's laugh morphs into a gasp as Quentin swallows around his cock. Margo has to hand it to Quentin, he certainly isn't shy about taking in Eliot's considerable length. And he's into it, if his rutting into the mattress is anything to go by. She points this out to Eliot, whispering in his ear and making him moan.

"Fuck, Q, you take me so well. You like that? Having your mouth filled?"

Quentin whines as he bobs over Eliot's cock. He makes a pretty sight, his lips sliding up and down the shaft. She watches the two of them slowly fall apart until she can see Eliot tensing up, a sure sign that he's close. He calls out a warning, and Margo watches the pleasure overtake his expression as Quentin pulls him over the edge.

Margo moves down the bed, ready to kiss Quentin as soon as he pulls off of Eliot. His arousal makes his kisses sloppy, but no less enthusiastic, and before long he's pulled away by Eliot, who moves in for a kiss of his own.

"It's your turn now," Eliot says, his voice a low rumble.

Quentin shudders. "I'm not gonna last long. Getting you both off was, like, the biggest turn-on ever. Not to mention I've been thinking about this for 24 hours."

"You still owe us the suit jacket story," Margo says, tracing a finger down his arm. "Maybe it'll help you calm down for a minute?"

"Oh god." Quentin brings up a hand to cover his face briefly, before dropping it. "So, okay. I was getting ready for work, and like, usually I drag my feet but I was kind of excited, so I had enough time to spare that I could actually eat breakfast or something instead of grabbing a cereal bar. But um, I thought I'd just look at the picture from last night, just to remind myself, and the next thing I knew I had my pants around my thighs and I was working myself over, picturing, well, almost exactly this."

"Mm, I like the thought of you desperate for us," Eliot says, licking the shell of his ear.

" _Fuck_ , that did _not_ help me calm down at all."

"It's okay," Eliot says, guiding him to lie on his side. "This is just the first time of many. There'll be plenty of opportunities to go again when we can make it last. How comfortable are you with being edged?"

Quentin whines, burying his face in the sheets. Eliot hums. "I couldn't see his expression, Margo, how do you think he feels?"

Margo smirks, stroking Quentin's dick slowly. "You know, I think he might be open to the idea."

" _Please_ ," Quentin murmurs, the word muffled against the mattress.

"Don't worry, baby, we've got you tonight," Margo says, finding a comfortable position to go down on him. "We'll save the teasing for next time." He moans at that, and his cock pulses in her hand. Oh, she is going to _love_ topping him in the future.

She locks eyes with Eliot over Quentin's hip, and at Eliot's nod, she gives a wink, and they both move in at once. She can't see what Eliot's doing, but she knows how talented his tongue is, and she knows she's not half bad herself. Quentin's body convulses a bit, his gasp audible as she sucks him down while Eliot does his work licking into him.

"Oh my god, oh my— _god_ ," Quentin keens, grabbing for a pillow to hold onto. Margo is very pleased to find that she was right about Quentin's lack of inhibitions in bed, including his complete lack of restraint for every grunt, gasp, and moan that escapes his lips.

He's holding himself so still, even though she can see the quiver in his muscles, how much he wants to push deeper into her mouth and back onto Eliot's tongue. She slides off smoothly, putting her hand where her mouth had been and sitting up to catch his eye. "You're so good for us, Q. We see how desperate you are, but you're staying so still. So good."

"I'm already close," Quentin says breathlessly.

Eliot's hand comes up to pet his hip, and then he sits up too. "We want you to come, baby. Show us how good you feel."

And then they move back, Margo taking him in deep, hearing him shout as she swallows around his cock. She can feel Eliot picking up the pace from his other side, and soon Quentin is calling out a garbled warning, and she pulls back to press her tongue under the head of his cock. She swallows the salty taste of him, stroking him through it until he shies away.

They give him time to come down, pressing light kisses along his body until he speaks up. "This totally sounds like a cliché, but I'm gonna say it anyway. I didn't know it could be that good."

"Just wait 'til Margo fucks you," Eliot says.

"Wait 'til _Eliot_ fucks you," Margo adds, and Quentin turns his face into the bed again.

Eliot spoons up behind Quentin, speaking against his ear. "You wanna get Margo off again? I bet she's ready to go again after that display you just put on."

Margo hums in agreement as she stretches out next to Quentin. She guides his hand down between her legs, where he reaches out tentatively. His fingers are cold at first but warm quickly as they slide between her folds, up to rub at her clit, then back down again to press inside her slightly. "That's it. You're so good, baby. I'm already most of the way there; I don't need you inside, just focus on my clit and kiss me."

Quentin does exactly as she's asked, rubbing two fingers against her just right as he slips his tongue into her mouth. She can feel heat rising at the base of her spine, and she rocks her hips slightly to add to the buildup. Eliot brushes her hair back over her shoulder, and she peeks up to see him watching the two of them with rapt attention. It's with the vision of both of them and Quentin's fingers stroking her so nicely that she crests over the edge, moaning into Quentin's mouth.

They lie in bed for a while, trading kisses and stories, until they catch themselves starting to yawn. Eliot retrieves the weighted blanket from the closet and explains to Quentin, "We have to turn the space heater off while we sleep. It's a fire hazard. But supposedly we're 'next in line' to get our real heater fixed, whenever that is."

Margo rolls her eyes. "I'm calling them again tomorrow to complain. But for now we've got the blanket, and a lovely excuse to huddle for warmth."

"I fully support this excuse," Quentin says, smiling lazily.

Once they're comfortable under the blanket, they each take turns trading kisses until they settle for the night, Eliot's fingers laced with Margo's and resting over Quentin's hip.

***

The next morning, Margo wakes to find Eliot dead asleep and no Quentin. She frowns at the sight for about five seconds until she hears the clink of metal from out in their living room. She grabs her robe from its hook, shivering slightly, and walks out to find Quentin messing with their heater.

"Q, what are you doing?" she asks, not bothering to whisper.

Quentin immediately hits his head on the bottom of the piece he'd been investigating. "Ow, uh. Hey Margo, g'morning."

She lifts her eyebrows. "You better have a good excuse for getting out of bed with us after our first night together."

Quentin looks sheepish. "Sorry. I had a theory, and I thought, well. Here, why don't I show you?" He traces some part of the inner workings of the heater, then pulls his hand back, fingers working through a series of gestures that seem natural despite being unrecognizable. They hear something click into place and then, after a beat, the pipes clank, and warm air starts to flow down from their vents.

"Oh— _my god_ ," says Eliot from behind her, and she turns to find him in his own robe, holding a hand up toward the vents like he can't believe what's happening. "Did you just fix our heater with magic?"

Quentin shrugs, looking proud. Margo's chest swells with shared pride, and she can see it in Eliot's eyes as well. She turns back to Quentin with a serious expression. "When can you move in?"

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love! <3


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